I have always wondered about the lives of the people in each unit.

That old man who sits at his bed watching television. His eyes looked empty. He suffers from dementia. But that glass cupboard was filled with clothes, probably cotton, all neatly folded and piled on top of the other. His face fascinates me. Those well worn clothes, what stories do they have to tell?

Suddenly, I thought of HP’s art work about loneliness and old age. (Dude, I miss you! Hope you are still creating art!)

It’s easy to lament that growing up is tough!!! Where are there so many decisions to make? Is this the right choice??! What if it’s the wrong choice?! What if I say yes? What if i say no?

Suddenly, growing old seems even scarier when we quietly observe the world around us. Sure, local art house films often try to highlight the darker side of Singapore. It is not a bed of roses. However, watching it on screen has its limits. There is a fourth wall. We are free to be passive, to have little emotion or little impetus to do something. However, those 10 minutes standing outside that stranger’s window, listening to the sound of silence, watching those empty eyes, that neat wardrobe...left me thinking about the aging population in Singapore. Maybe I should do an art piece on it.

A handsome young man warmly welcomed us into his house. There were so many art works in there, but if I could retrace my steps, I remember looking at his physique, the keychain sprawled among the unopened letters, the green old fashion tiles on the floor, the magnets on the fridge, the scent of clean laundry, laundry on the bamboo poles, and then the filled bookshelves. I looked at the book shelves, scanned at the books he read and thought to myself “definitely a well-read man!”.

What about the art? I remember that surreal taped room, the sleeping photos... but being in a stranger’s home called out to me more than the art works. So much of a person’s personality can be read just by observing the little details in that person’s house. Honestly, the art works were not mind blowing. I am not sure if it is because I was more drawn to the idea of being in a stranger’s home, but the art works displayed did not call out to me. I was unable to draw any strong sense of rootedness or significance to the place. Would the works have made a difference to the viewer if it was curated at the museum? The experience would definitely be different but would the message be the same?

How often do we see works today that are just
-paintings
-sculpture

Today, art has evolved to something that actively interacts with the space. Hence, video installations, photo installations, etc...

So how effective was that exhibition that I attended? Hmm...